Once Upon Another Time
by phantasma'sfinest
Summary: Once upon another time, on the glistening and glimmering Coney Isle, Christine lives on. Raoul is lost & doesn't know how to regain his life of luxury and splendor. Erik wants to raise his own family, the perfect family he's always dreamed of. Madame Giry's greed gets the better of her. Gustave is broken, & Meg needs to patch things up with him. And their story is just beginning.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first story. As you can probably tell, I'm new to the fan fiction world :) Reviews and advice are highly appreciated. Enjoy! **

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**CHAPTER ONE (Meg's POV)**

"Give me the gun, Meg," he says with an air of authority in his voice. If  
we were in different circumstances, I probably would've noticed the distress and pleading in his voice. But no. He has given me nothing. Not even a moment of gratitude. Is this the thanks I will ever get? Nothing can change my decision now.

I press the gun at my temples and feel the cold steel beckoning me to pull the trigger and end all the pain.

"Give me the hurt, and the pain, and the gun, Meg." His voice is more urgent now. "Give me the chance to see you clear at last."

"See me clear at last," I whisper to myself. I close my eyes and imagine the life I had always wanted to lead. All the emotions I had kept for all the distressing years rush to me and show up as glittering drops rolling down my cheeks.

"Diamonds never sparkle bright if they aren't set just right. Beauty sometimes goes unseen." At hearing this, I begin to doubt my decision. Slowly, I start to lower the gun, believing every word he is saying and letting all the walls of defense that I have ever built cautiously fall until the gun is now down, only inches away from his reach. "We can't all be like Christine."

"Christine?" I hear my voice crack. "Always Christine!" I hear my every frustration for the past days in a single choking sentence.

Suddenly, I am shaking too much for me to bear and my finger slides to the trigger.

Erik holds me, one hand on my shoulder and the other trying to take the gun away from me. For the first time, I see fear in his eyes. I notice that he is not looking at me. Nor is he looking at Christine. I follow his gaze and realize that His eyes are trained on Gustave. Him and only him.

_This is your only chance_, I say to myself. I pull the trigger expecting myself to feel the tug of excruciating pain seconds later, but hear the gunshot and realize that it is not pointed at me, but pointed at Erik.

He frees me of the gun and I drop to the cold ground, shaking with sobs. He staggers down beside me and frantically tries to tend his wound.

"Erik!" I hear Christine scream. She falls to his side, trying to see where he had been shot. "I'm here, angel." she says, a tear rolling down her cheek. I see him hold her hand, trying so much to endure the pain. "Gustave, stay here. I will get help," she cries, as she desperately runs to find help, any help, trying to be strong for her son.

I feel Mother's arms wrap around me giving me the warmth I didn't notice I needed. "My little Meg." she manages to say in between her cries of relief for my safety.

At this point, I question all that I have ever done to be where I am now. What if we had never went to Calais in the first place? What if mother had listened to me and we had never helped the great opera ghost? I suddenly realize that in my mind, it all boils down to one question. What if all those years of toil and tears had been for nothing?

I hear my sobs become louder now, and I try to stop. I have tried to hide all that I have felt for the past 10 years and yet in this one moment, they could not be kept any longer.

In an instant, I feel a wave of cold emptiness as the dark finally envelops me and I lose consciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO (Erik POV)

My head hurts.

I open my eyes, expecting to find myself still at the pier, Gustave in Meg's grasp, and he desperately hanging on to dear life as he looks at Christine, not knowing what else to do.

Instead, I find myself staring at the white ceiling of a cold room.

I scramble to sit up on the bed only to be restrained by a small arm draped across my stomach and a warm hand holding my own from the other side. I notice Gustave sleeping beside me with a faint smile on his lips and my angel sitting on a chair, but resting her head on the bed. She slowly stirs and wakes up with a jolt, a worried look on her face. Her eyes automatically shoot to mine and stay there. I watch as she processes what's happening.

"I'm okay, angel" I say, caressing her cheek. She reaches for my hand and closes her eyes. I glance at Gustave and she says, "I would've brought him back to the hotel, but he wouldn't agree to it. He insisted on staying here." A smile is playing across her lips, waiting for my reaction.

"You look shocked, angel." Christine says and lets out a small laugh and closes the distance between us with a kiss.

"An old friend of yours will drop by this morning, darling. He's the one who helped me last night." Seeing my confused expression and the pain I'm trying to keep hidden from the constant throbbing at the back of my head, she makes me lie down with a light push. "You need to rest, angel. I will take Gustave to breakfast first. He must be starving."

She wakes him up and he comes to, groggily. They head for the door as he says, "Are you sure it's okay if we leave him?" "We'll be back as soon as we can, darling. But first, you need to eat." she says with a warm smile as she pats his head. Why don't you go ahead?" "Yes mother." He says, placing a light kiss on her cheeks. "I'll be back soon, father," and he goes out humming a tune.

He knows, I realize, eyes wide. "Christine—" "I told him last  
night when he went looking for Raoul. You know what he said to me?" I shook my head, thinking of the possible rejection Gustave may have. "He asked me when you would wake and if you would be okay." she says, grinning from ear to ear.

My mouth falls open. I wasn't expecting that. She heads for the door and says, "He's the one who insisted in taking it off too. I just thought you ought to know." and she exits the room.

That's when it hit me. I could feel the cool breeze on both sides of my face. Oh god— I'm not wearing my mask.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE (Gustave POV)**

I was nearing the exit of Coney Island's little hospital when mother finally caught up with me. "Did you get some rest, darling?" "Oh yes, mother," I say, a small smile on my lips.

Father is alright. He won't leave mother and I. Not like the other one. At this thought, my smile slightly falters. Reading my thoughts somehow, she asks, "How about a bite to eat, hm?" as she looks at me with concern-filled eyes.

"A croissant sounds good to me, mother." I say, the smile returning to my face. I've always loved how she can figure out what I feel, even in an instant.

"Alright, young man. Let's head for the bakery," she says as she, grinning too, takes me hand and we walk through the wonders of Coney. It was 7 in the morning and attractions were getting ready for another day of giving people sheer astonishment and delight. Even at this hour, it seems to glisten, just like a dream. It's amazing how Phantasma could set my most secret dreams finally free.

It was a silent walk to the bakery and once we had bought some breakfast for mother, father and I, we set out back for the hospital. I insisted for us to eat there. At first, mother told me that I needed to have a proper breakfast, seeing that I probably didn't have proper sleep either, but I could tell that she too was concerned about father, and so she finally gave in to my pleadings.

We neared the hospital when suddenly a man, with bottle in hand, was blocking our way.

"Raoul!" mother said, her eyes wide like she was confronting death himself.

"Hello, Christine! Have you missed me?!" he asked— shouted, rather, with a drunken smile on his face. He had often come home late at night like this. He stumbles to the ground and I take this chance to try and run to the hospital's entrance. "Mother, let's go!" I say, my voice urgent. She snaps out of a trance-like state and we run for the door.

We are finally inside, thank goodness. I realize that my heart was beating fast. There was a time when I considered him as my father. He was my father. Was. I used to hear them fight long into the night, assuming that I was already asleep, and never again do I want to put up with the constant hurt and pain he gave mother and I. Mother was happier with Mr. Y. I could tell.

_We_ were happier.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR (Christine POV)**

I listen to my slowing heartbeats and look out to see if Raoul had followed us. He hadn't. I relax, realizing that i was holding my breath.

My heart sinks. This is not the man I had fallen in love with. I guess I learned that people change the hard way. He changed the moment we were wed, I just couldn't admit it to myself. At first, I thought it was me. I was the problem. It was my fault. I just couldn't erase the image of Erik, finally showing me his pure and whole heart on that night beneath a moonless sky. For a while, I had been distraught when I found out that my angel was dead. Raoul never noticed and if he ever did, he never said a word.

When Gustave was born, he started to come home late at night, smelling of alcohol and the perfumes of other women.

He had also forbidden me to sing.

"How dare you sing that in my house!" he had once said, and I had felt the impact of his palm on my cheek. What was even worse is I was singing His music. My angel's music, the angel I believed to be dead.

All these thoughts come to me until I realize that we are already in front of Erik's room. Gustave looks to me and says, "Mother, are you alright?" concern written all over his face. "I'm alright, darling." I say, dismissing my condescending thoughts.

Erik is here. Gustave is here. Nothing could compare to the thought of finally starting a new life, a new family, together. Nothing.

I open the door, the smile plastered back on my face. "Hello Gustave!" Erik says and Gustave runs to his side, placing a light kiss to the deformed side of Erik's face. "Christine, when you said an old friend was coming, I never expected this." He says with a cold tone, and yet, mischievous grin. And there in the room was Erik's savior.

"Glad you finally decided to drop by, Nadir!"


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE (Nadir POV)**

"Ah, dear old friend. I thought you'd never come and accept my offer!" Erik says as he sees me walk in. "Well, it's you who made the offer, Erik. And to hear that you're finally on your feet, and one famous impresario at that! How could I ever have said no?" I challenge. He chuckles and says, "It really is good to see you again, Nadir." "It's good to see you too, Erik." I answer with a smile.

We hear the doorknob turn and he glances up to see Christine and Gustave enter.

"Christine, when you said an old friend was coming, I never expected this." He says with a cold tone, and yet, a mischievous grin. I chuckle and turn to face Christine.

"Glad you finally decided to drop by, Nadir!" She says, ignores what Erik said and rolls her eyes. Now, I find, is the only instance that i get to take in her features. She was frantic last night and so very stressed. She was happy now and so much more laid back. She is not the prettiest girl I have ever seen, yet there is a certain beauty in her that you don't see in other women. Others have a superior air. Hers was different. There was so much love and kindness radiating from her. No wonder Erik loved her.

I give her a hug and offer her the chair I had been sitting on.

"Would you like some breakfast, darling?" she says to Erik and he nods. "If I had known that you were dropping by, Nadir, I would've bought more." she continues, her voice disappointed.

"Oh it's alright, Christine." I say, giving her a warm smile. "I've already eaten breakfast." "So early too!" she says, both a Statement and a question. "Of course! How else could I start my new job as head of security?" I say, and realize that I didn't have the chance to tell her that last night. "Anyway, I must be off. I only checked up on him for a while." I say, about to leave. "How about we all have dinner tonight?" Christine says before I open the door. "Sounds lovely." I say, before I go out and catch a glimpse of Christine feeding Erik some food.

Erik had always shut the world out. Many knew him as a phantom, a heartless, cruel man, but he didn't fool me. Erik never liked people seeing his vulnerability, yet once when we were in Persia, I saw the fear and remorse in his eyes when he realized that what he had done for the Shah was as good as he killing by his own hand. I had seen the crazed look in his eyes, full of regret and pain. Compassion was a complete stranger to him.

That was when I knew he needed to be loved. He deserved it. And now, he has found it in Christine. If we were back in Persia, he would've dismissed the thought of him loving someone and that someone loving him back. Yet when Christine had entered the room, I saw the look in his eyes. I had never seen him look at another person that way before. It was as if she was the only one who could make his song take flight. It was love and nothing more. Christine has changed him in a way that no one ever has or ever could.

As I head for the exit, I pass a woman, maybe around her late 20s, who asks me, "Excuse me sir, would you happen to know where Room 663 is?" "Oh, certainly. I see you're here to visit Erik as well. I was just there, actually. It's the room across the hall and to the left. I am Nadir Khan, by the way." I say, shaking her hand. "Thank you, monsieur," she says with a nervous smile. Her hands are cold as ice. "My name is Meg Giry."


	6. Chapter 6

Hello everyone! I will try to write the next chapters a little longer (awesome bit of advice i got from a review. Thank you Toriana!). Thank you so so much for the reviews. They motivate me to write. Really. Please keep em coming! :) Anyway, please enjoy this one :)

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**CHAPTER SIX (Meg POV)**

*thump thump*

Has my heart ever beaten this fast?

*thump thump*

Should I—no, Meg, go back before it's too late—but... Oh, pull yourself together Meg!

I feel like everything is in slow motion. I hear every beat of my heart, haunting beats of never ceasing drums. I'm right in front of Room 663 now, and debating whether or not to enter. Slowly, ever so slowly, I turn the knob and get in. I am greeted with a deafening silence.

Three pairs of eyes are baring into mine. I hear Christine's breath hitch and see Gustave's horrified expression from the corner of my eye.

"What do you want, Meg?" Erik finally ends the silence. He looks at me, demanding an answer, his face unreadable.

"Erik," I say, my voice fragile. I don't even know where to begin. "I'm so sorry." And I hear my voice finally crack, my teardrops daring to flow. I cautiously move closer. "I'm sorry for everything. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness." I stammer the words out, hesitant and guilty. "I don't deserve it from any of you here. You can't possibly imagine what i'm feeling right now." I say, swallowing hard. "I just—" a teardrop falls down my cheek, "I'm sorry."

My vision, now, is blurred with my very tears, and suddenly, I am trapped in a warm hug.

Christine.

And I hug her back. My stomach twists. What possessed me to do this to her? Christine was a sister to me. What had I been thinking?!

I chance a glance at Erik. Still, he gives nothing away. Not even the slightest of emotions. I head for the door, not daring to hurt him anymore than what I had already done. I turn the knob, ready to leave.

"I can see you, Meg. I can see you clear at last." he says, his voice almost a whisper. I freeze. What?

I turn to look at him and he gives a small nod. Was that compassion in his eyes? "Thank you, Erik." I say, feeling a flood of relief and thankfulness. I give him a smile, which he returns, and I exit the room.

I walk back to my apartment, a thought invading my thoughts all the way there. Before I went out of that room, I caught a glimpse of Gustave. He was there in the corner, with bloodshot eyes. He was afraid, crying silent tears.

Oh, what have I done?


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SIX (Erik POV)**

"Thank you, Erik," she says and gives me a smile which I return with a moment of thought. She goes out of the room.

"Gustave, come here." I say as soon as she leaves.

"Everything's okay," he was whispering to himself. "Mother and Father are here. No one will harm you," he kept chanting to himself, and my heart was, for the first time in a long time, breaking again. Just like ten years ago, under the opera house, when Christine had chosen Raoul once and for all. Back then, I couldn't fathom why she had chosen him, really. To me, he was just another miscalculation to my plan to have her as my own. He was just another typical man who fell in love with the talent, not really the one who was _talented_. _But he's back in France_, I say to myself. _Back like it should be and never to bother us again. _Gustave walks up to me, straightening up from his protective crouch in the corner. _He is my son. _Wow, I never expected myself to say that. Ever. It still amazes me to think that this boy, this _perfect_ specimen, could possibly my son. My own son. A monster and a murderer.

I guess that's the beauty of love. You look with your heart and not your eyes. You learn to accept the people you love for who they are, no more and yet no less.

"Gustave," I start as I take his hand, "Why are you crying?" He squeezes my hand as more tears pour from his eyes. "You are the best surprise I have ever gotten. The best surprise of my whole life, mind you." I say, and try to give him a smile. I see his eyes brighten at what I just said. "Do you think I would let anything bad happen to you?" I ask him, brushing a tear from his face. "Now, a smile perhaps?" I say as he smiles at me, a thankful smile.

"Thank you, father," he says, hugging me tight. _He is your reason to live_, I say to myself, and the thought makes me hug him even tighter. He places a small kiss to the deformed side of my face. When we were back in Paris, Christine had to get used to my deformity to accept me after seeing the monster beneath the mask. She had shunned and despised me. Gustave was the same the first time he saw me and I thought he would be just the same as his mother who had to get used to the beast I was. In truth, I never expected him to show me love. I never expected it, even in my wildest dreams. Yet here he was now, not only accepting my horrifying imperfections but also welcoming me with open and loving arms as the father he never knew. A father who had never showed up for ten years. Gustave was—is—one of the best things that have ever happened to me. My angel is the other. Oh, my Christine. How I feel my heart skip a beat whenever I think of how we can finally start a new life together, without all the rejection, deceit, and pain.

"Oh, I almost forgot, I have good news, Christine! The doctor came by a while ago and said that I could be out of the hospital by this afternoon." I say, smiling. "That's great, darling," she says, her voice distant. I look to Christine and see her confused features. "What's wrong, angel?" I ask her. What is she thinking of that's making her so worried? "Angel?" I ask again, anxious to hear her answer. "Raoul is here, Erik." she says, gulping. "What do we do?" she says, like she's afraid of what I'll say next. "THAT INSOLENT BOY IS STILL HERE?" I hear my voice fill the room. _Gustave is here_, I remind myself. No, I don't want to scare him.

I take a deep breath.

"How did you know?" I ask her, trying to calm down. I had learned to control my temper over the years. I guess that was what working with other people after years hiding in the shadows did to you. But whenever I hear that bloody fop's name, I lose my temper. I couldn't help it. He had left with Christine ten years ago, vowing to love her forever, yet he had given her so much pain.

"We saw him at the entrance," Gustave says. "What?! How dare he stay here. How dare he ruin my world," I say, my patience running dry, my hate boiling once more, like how it had so many years ago. "Erik," Christine starts to say but gets cut off by a knock on the door. "Mr.Y?" the doctor asks. "Yes, come in," I say, breathing in and out, reminding myself that my impatience never does me any good and never will. "We received your test results earlier than expected, monsieur. You're quite alright. You are allowed to go home now, provided that you clean and replace the bandage for your wound whenever needed."

At least this good news is getting my mind off of that pathetic excuse of a Vicomte.

"Your hospital fees have also been paid for by Miss Fleck, Mr Gangle and Mr Squelch. They send their best regards. Your clothes from last night are in that closet, newly washed and pressed, sir." he says and points to the small cabinet in the corner. He turns to Christine and says, "It would be best to have him rest for a week or two, Madame. Not too much stress," at hearing this, Christine's eyes shoot to mine, and I can see that she is worried again. How convenient that I needed rest when my life certainly didn't want me to get any given the recent turn of events. "Yes, of course. Thank you." Christine replies with a nod. "You're welcome, madame. Have nice day!", the doctor says and leaves the room.

My mind floats to Raoul again. This is the start of a new life. I finally have a family, a family that loves and accepts me along with my imperfections, and I would not let anyone ruin that. And I sure as hell won't let some boy do that either. I stand up in a hurry, determined, and I dress up. "Let's go" I say once I am done. I walk out of the room, my feet taking me to a place I rarely went to. In my mind, it was a place that wasn't needed in Phantasma. This is suppose to be a place of happiness. Why should there be people throwing their lives away in a corner, with vices and the temptation of death?

Gustave catches up with me "Where are we going?" he asks, taking my hand.

"Suicide hall."


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT (Raoul POV)**

"One more." I say to the bartender, not even caring about how I am to possibly pay for the alcohol I have been trying to drown my sanity into for the past hours.

_Look at your life_, I think to myself. _You're a Vicomte, for goodness sake. And what are you now? You're broke. You have a debt that you can't possibly pay. You married a chorus girl that chose a monster over you. You used to have so many friends and yet when your money had gone, so had they. And now you're sulking at a bar, alone, with nothing to look forward to and nothing to hope for_. Damn this life.

I use to think that my life would be happy, really. Happy with Christine and our son and our fortune. But gambling and alcohol had tempted me. And oh, how tempted I was. It was exhilarating and exciting. Nothing compared to the rush I got every single time. The problem was when I had promised not to do it for the sake of Christine, dear Christine and our son, I never found anything like the excitement and exhilaration it had given me. It was like a drug, and it had possessed me so.

"Ah, Vicomte." a voice behind me creeps, a voice that sends chills down my spine. I turn around to see Him with my wife and son. What would happen if I were to go back to Paris without them? The de Chagny name already tainted with my gambling and alcohol problem wouldn't exactly benefit from my divorce from my wife either. It's my reputation on the line. I need to being them both back, I decide.

"Christine," I say, standing up and holding my hand out for her to take. "Let's go home... please. America's not a place for us. Not a place for Gustave. Let's go." I say. "Leave this place behind." I take a step toward them. The beast moves swiftly to their side. Damn, he's blocked my way.

"What's the matter? Afraid they'll come with me?" I say, challenging him. "No," he bites back. "I'm afraid you'll hurt them again like you have these past 10 years." he says simply, but what he says feels like a slap on my face. "Stop fooling yourself, boy," he continues. "Leave. Now." he says, his eyes frightening and angry. "I won't say it again, Vicomte. Leave now. And leave alone." "He is my son, monster. My own flesh and blood. He comes with me whether you like it or not." I say, realizing this with a triumphant grin. "You really think he is your son, don't you? Are you blind, boy? Have you ever seen a similarity between him and you these last ten years?" he says, the triumphant grin I wore before already transferred to his features.

Gustave is not my son he adds and starts to lead Christie and Gustave out of the bar, not even waiting for my reply. "Well well well, what's this?" I say with a playful tone, unable to control my actions, my mind surrendering to the control of the alcohol. "Are you deluded enough to think that my wife and child would actually love you?" I shout. "Oh don't worry, I won't force them to leave. They want to come with me." I say, stepping nearer. "Especially Gustave. Don't you, son?" I say giving my son a smile. "Frankly, I can't imagine anyone who would want to stay in this dreadful town with an imbecile and freak of a father."

In the blink of an eye, I see his fist bundle up and meet the side of my face. I fall on my back and he tries to hit me again. "Darling, stop!" Christine says, hurrying to his side. Ah, Christine. She had always been so protective. Why she was protecting me now, I didn't know. "Stop, angel. Please," she says taking the beast's hand in hers.

She won't go back with you. They won't. Those thoughts hit me like a fast train and send me back to my painful reality, the influence of alcohol all gone. What am I to do now?

I do what I have been convincing myself not to do and do what I have been convincing myself to have no reason whatsoever to do. I stand up but they don't notice, and I slowly move to the cliff of suicide hall that has been both friend and enemy to those who have walked beyond it.

What happens now? Nothing waits for you back in Paris. No wealth, no family, no wife and no future. Oh damn this life and all its complications.

I take a step closer to the cliff, the thought of death getting friendlier and friendlier by the minute. I am at the edge of the cliff now. What do I lose anyway of I do this? I have nothing, I own nothing. I can't lose anything either then, can I?

I stretch one leg beyond the edge of the cliff, out in the air, ready to put my all my weight on it and fall to the sea. Ready to be in peace, to finally leave all the problems and pains of this damn life behind. Do it, I say to myself.

And I do.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

(Gustave POV)

There's something wrong.

I just know it.

I look around the bar but before I could see anything different, I hear mother's scream pierce the room. In a flash, I see Mr.Y rush to the cliff. "Father!" I manage to say as I run to where he is, my heart pounding in my chest. Raoul is dangling on the edge of the cliff with father holding a fistful of his collar in one hand. He mumbles something I can't understand. "Raoul," Mr.Y says puffing, having a hard time lifting Raoul with just one arm. "Take hold of my hand." He says. He hesitates for a moment, but he takes it and father shoves him up.

My heart is beating, every beat ringing in my ears. Whatever he has done to us, he has still been my father for ten years. And somehow, I am not scared right now. Why though? Is it because I feel so much safety when Mr. Y's here?

With a violent shove, puffing and having a hard time, he lifts him up from the cliff, away from his chances of leaving this earth. He sets Raoul as far as possible from the cliff, all over to the other side of the bar. Once he sets him down, I see Raoul shudder. I take a step near him, and hold his hand, cold to the touch. I look into his eyes, confused and frightened. What must he be thinking?

(Raoul POV)  
I am about to fall. I say goodbye to all the pain and bid the earth farewell. I am ready.

Suddenly, I feel a violent shove and realize that the beast is holding on to me by me collar. Oh, so this is the moment he chose, of all moments, to be self-righteous with me? The fool.

"Let go. I know you want to." I say, breathless. With a pang of realization, i notice that it is not readiness for death that I feel, but fear. I hadn't felt fear in a long time, only feeling it last when Christine had chosen to sing. At that moment I had longed for relief from the fear, so I sought the only thing i believed to be the answer. Alcohol, with all it's exhilaration and excitement. And that was why I had not left Coney.

He instructs me to take hold of his hand, and I do, feeling a wave of gratitude. He had saved my life. The beast I had feared, the monster who had almost killed me on that night under the opera house had saved me.

I am shaking and shuddering as they bring me to the other side of the bar. Erik and Christine look at me with worried and speculating eyes. My own eyes float to Gustave's who takes hold of my cold hands, giving them warmth.

"Go back to the hotel, Christine," the beast says, the love in his voice for Christine unmasked for the first time. "Go with Gustave. Please." he continues. "I don't want him to see Raoul this way." he says to her, almost a whisper so Gustave could not hear. She nods, understanding. She takes Gustave's hand and gives the Opera Ghost a tender kiss. "We'll wait for you there." she says, giving him one last look of concern before she finally heads out, Gustave with her.

"Why did you do it?" I say, once they are gone, my voice a questioning whisper. "I don't see any reason why I shouldn't have." he says. "Oh shut up and stop with the damn philosophical answers, Erik." I say, realizing this is the only time I have ever said his name out loud. He realizes too, his eyes wide. "Well," he starts out, thinking hard of what he should say next. "it was for Christine." he says finally. "Christine doesn't even care anymore," I start to say. Suddenly, he cuts me off. "Yes she does." he replies. "Do you think it was that easy for her to choose between the two of us last night?" "She was choosing between staying with you because of her love or staying with me for the boy's sake. I don't think that's too hard of a decision to make, Erik." "Yes, it is hard!" he cuts me off again, almost shouting, his voice filling the bar. He breathes deeply, apparently trying to calm down. "She loves you, Raoul. They both do. Do you seriously think they would've stayed with you all these years even with all your shortcomings if they didn't?" he says softly, his eyes baring into mine, searching for an answer.

"Thank you, Erik." I say after some time, ending the silence. He offers his hand to me, and I shake it, and we finally let all our hatred slip away, already forgotten. "Your debts have been paid, Vicomte. If I remember rightly, there is a trip going back to Paris in a few hours. Would you like to go back?" he says, a curiosity for my answer playing in his voice. "Yes," I say after a moment's thought. A new life sounded lovely. Somehow, someday, I will find a way to get out of this damn mess that I am in, but at this moment, I finally decide to be forever in debt to the man who saved my life and helped get back up.

•••••

I am already on the ship bound for Paris that is getting ready to leave. The horn blows. As the ship leaves the dock, my eyes catch sight of a happy family. Erik, Christine and Gustave, the boy I once called my son, waving goodbye. I wave back, realizing that I will miss him. I will miss them.

You will see them again someday, I say to myself, and with a final glance, look at Coney Island, in all it's glory, one last time.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN (Madame Giry POV)

The rehearsal with the new back-up dancers was a disaster. They were horrible! What possessed them to think they could perform in a place like Phantasma, I'll never know. The show is the best in town, so therefore, we must showcase the best. Not just anyone. The audience deserves the absolute best.

Over the years, I had always tried to shape the shows into ones that would suit Meg most. Erik had taken my advice most of the time but he had always been unaware that I had been doing it for Meg. I never thought it selfish, nor did I ever think of it as deception. Erik had always been like a son to me, and I had always wanted to see him happy. Not a momentary happiness, but a lifelong one. Phantasma, his dream, becoming successful was a way to obtain that sort of happiness. It isn't my fault anymore if the key for it's success is Meg.

I finally arrive at our little apartment, just at the shore of Coney Island. The lights are switched on and the front door is slightly ajar. "Meg?" I say, knocking on the door, though already opened. She is sitting on the couch, her elbows propped on her knees, both hands covering her face. I get in and the first thing I notice are the bloodshot eyes of my daughter. What happened?

"Meg, what's wrong?" I ask, holding her by the shoulders. She is shakes her head as more tears roll down her cheeks. "What's wrong?" I say again, my panic rising. She stays silent. I wipe her tears, bring her to the dining table, and give her a glass of water. She finishes it and tries to avoid my eyes. I sigh. She never really liked sharif her problems with me. That had always been the problem with Meg. I never really knew what bothered her. "Meg," I say, my voice soft and questioning, "maybe I can help you." I say, not knowing what else to tell her.

"It's Gustave." she says, her voice cracking the moment she began to speak. "What happened?" I ask her, reaching for her hand. She begins to cry harder. "I just don't know what to do," she says after some time in silence. She is shaking, and I give her a tight hug. I never liked when she was troubled like this. Not to mention it's not beneficial for our show.

"Just do what you need to do." I say, putting a light kiss on her forehead. "Do you want me to cancel rehearsals tonight?" I ask, readying myself for the disappointing answer I am expecting. "Yes please." She says, a grateful smile on her features. She stands up and fixes her slightly tear stained dress. She stands there for a while thinking deeply. Suddenly, she goes out the door. "Where are you going?" I call after her.

"I'm going to make things right."


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

**(Meg POV) **

It starts to rain as I make my way to the hospital. What would I tell Gustave? That I was sorry? But I had said that already. And even if i hadn't, there is no way he'd accept my apology now. I had threatened to take his life away for chrissake. I may have just scarred his life forever. No one deserves that. No one. Especially not him.

I get to the hospital and knock on the door of Room 663, soaking wet. I am nervous. My hands shake and my stomach hurts, butterflies fluttering with anxiety. "There's no one there, dear," a nurse passing the hall says. "Mr.Y was discharged from the hospital a few hours ago," she adds. I find myself quite happy with that news. If he is at home, I guess I would be able to talk to him much better without him having his mind worried about other things. At least I hope so. A frustrated and helpless sigh escapes my mouth. I say a short word of thanks and head for the hotel, running through a thousand apologies in my mind, not knowing which one to say.

Killing time, I take the long way going to the hotel though I know a shortcut. I walk by the carousel, the bright attraction bringing joy to all those children and sit on the nearest bench, my favorite spot on the island. Going here had always helped me realize why I do all that I do for Phantasma, for them. If I experience hurt, at least they would experience happiness.

Now partially dry seeing that the rain had ended and I unexpectedly took a long time sitting in my little corner I could call my own, I hesitate once I am in front of the door, but eventually, I knock. "Gustave, could you get that, please? It might be your father." I hear Christine's voice through the door. Even when she isn't singing, her voice is as lovely as ever. A slight pang of jealousy darts into my mind and I forget all my practiced pleadings for forgiveness.

Oh, stop Meg! She was, and still is your best friend. The irony of it all is i had been jealous mainly because she was leading the life I always wanted to lead. A healthy and obedient son, a handsome husband, and a fortune to support my family for the rest of our days. I dismiss any further thought about my envy and hear someone scrambling to get to the door with clumsy little foot steps. The door opens. "Father?" Gustave says and I see his face fall when he sees it's not Erik.

**(Gustave POV) **

It's Miss Giry. She's here.

She. Is. Here.

Instinct kicking in, I suddenly take a step back, and she looks at me worriedly. "Mother," I say, hesitating. "Erik?" Mother says, going out of the bedroom. "Oh, Meg!" she says, a smile on her face. "Hello, Christine!" Miss Giry says, returning the smile. Mother is smiling at her already. She always forgave people she loved too easily. That's what I admired about her. I wonder, could she teach me to be like that? "Erik's not here, I'm afraid—" Mother says, but Miss Giry cuts her off mid-sentence. "Oh, that's quite alright. A-actually I wanted to speak to Gustave, if that's f-fine." she stammers. Wait, what? It's me she wants to talk to? Oh no, what will she say? I let out a shaky breath. Mother's chocolate brown eyes search mine for approval. Look with your heart, her eyes seemed to say. I had always loved how easily Mother and i could understand each other, even without talking. She nods encouragingly and says, "I'll be in the bedroom then." and leaves Miss Giry and I alone in the living room. This is the worst possible scenario I have ever imagined i'd be in. Why now? I can't even look at her without remembering all that I felt last night. I can't look at her without remembering that i had felt the most fear in my life because of her. Why is she here?

**(Meg POV)**

I take a hesitant seat on the couch and pat the space next to me, gesturing Gustave to sit beside me. He thinks for a moment, but sits after a while. What should I say now? I hate myself for not thinking about all this in more detailed means earlier. With a deep breath, I look into his innocent eyes, scared, confused, and calm all at the same time. I can tell that he is trying to fight back tears, tears of fear.

"I'm so sorry, Gustave. I really am. I had no idea that this was what was going to happen to you." And now I am the one trying to be strong, my eyes betraying me. "I know it would be hard for you to put all of this in the past, so I am not asking you for that. I just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry." I say, waiting in a long dreaded silence for his reply.

"I had nightmares last night," he says and ends the silence. "And all that happened was replaying in my head. They're crystal clear inside my mind, even right now." he says, his voice a low whisper, like he's afraid that any louder, his voice might crack and he might start crying. "I don't know how to make them stop." he says. He looks straight into my eyes, his own becoming a pool of tears. "I'm scared." he says as a tear rolls down his cheek. "I'm scared that you'll take me away, I'm scared that you'll hurt mother," he is stammering and shaking, "and I'm scared that you'll hurt father," he says with an air of finality. "And I won't let that happen. Not again."

And now it's like my heart wants to break. I don't know what else to say. I try to reason with myself that I really didn't expect him to forgive me. Who would, really? Even to me, the very thought of what I had done makes me shiver. He doesn't deserve this. I take his little hand in mine, and I feel him remove his hand from my grasp. His tears are flowing now, and he is crying silent tears again. "I try to forget." he chokes. "But I just can't."

I don't know what to do anymore. A helpless feeling in my gut grows and I feel it in the deafening beats of my heart. "Gustave—" "I'm sorry, Miss Giry, but i just can't shake or take away from my memory what happened last night." he says, and I understood perfectly. He must be reminded of that moment every time he looked at me. "I'm sorry." I say again, my voice distressed and pleading.

I stand up and head for the door, not knowing what to tell him anymore, not knowing what else to say. "You were suppose to be mother's friend." he says suddenly. I freeze in my tracks. "You threatened to kill me, her son, her flesh and blood." my throat tightens. "You claim to be father's companion and friend as well, but you were unhappy with what made him happy." my heart beats faster with every word he says. "Why would you do that?"

I stare at him, stricken with what he said, his eyes holding a hint of curiosity underneath the pain. He is asking me to explain why I had almost killed him. Oh, god. What am I to say now? The truth that jealousy claimed me would just break his little heart. "I just want to understand."

The guilt is filling me and my heart is pounding. He want to understand. He wants to understand, but how on earth could all this possibly make sense? If I ever could make him understand, I know he'd never be able to go through the ugly truth of it all.

"I don't know why I did." I manage to say, memories of last night flooding back, never to leave. "But what happened is haunting me too, Gustave. I'm so sorry. I really am. That, i wish you could understand perfectly. I hope you do." I say, trying as hard as I can to keep my voice calm and steady even with the tears threatening to pour.

That said, I turn the knob, not daring to look at him, and go out of the room. It's cruel how we can't turn back time. If we could, I would've made Christine realize that she loved Erik when I knew she did a long time ago, back in Paris. My home. Oh, how I missed it. New York was a wonder to behold, but I had still cried myself to sleep those first few nights, still wishing I could be home, at the opera, when I opened my eyes. Even on some nights, I still cry myself to sleep, longing for the home I had known for so long.

It's too bad actions can't be forgotten either, I think. I wish they could be though. Every memory of pain, remorse, and anger would go away. Every bad moment, forgotten. But no, life is cruel, and it has taught me nothing but that these past ten years. What's done is done.

"I really do hope you understand that, Gustave. I am sorry. I'm so so sorry." I say, pleading before I leave, a tear finally escaping my control on that last sentence. I turn the knob, go out, and almost break down crying right in front of their room.

What's done is done.


End file.
